


A Little Bird Told Me

by dissatisfied_doodles



Series: Kingfisher Tales [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Minor Character(s), Multi, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Original Female Character, Side Story, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dissatisfied_doodles/pseuds/dissatisfied_doodles
Summary: A collection of side-stories for the Kingfisher universe. Featuring random characters and events through time in the story.
Series: Kingfisher Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666894
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	1. Out of the sunset’s red into the blushing sea, the winds of day drop dead, and dreams come home to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello darlings! I’ve finally decided to start posting some of the side stories I’ve been hinting about!  
> This side story was prompted by none other than the delightful, kind, and ever patient [EAcade](%E2%80%9C), who’s help has been invaluable! Thanks so much for all that you’ve done for me hon!

My name is Akane. 

My name is Akane, though it has not always been that way. 

I was born Kurama Hinode, a boy with soft wisps of ginger hair and blue, blue eyes. Hinode grew alongside Senju Kazuma, beneath the watching eye of his mother, Uzumaki Mito, and sheltered beneath the jade green leaves of their village. 

Hinode was taught by a mother’s hand, her brush and ink a river from which figment and form spilled. She painted white boughed willow trees whose leaves gleamed frosted pink, spiralling crystal-cut wildflowers in dizzying arrays of colours, deep mirror smooth pools whose aquamarine waters caught the star’s light and held them like lanterns in the night. 

And from all these things, Akane was born. 

Akane grew lean and fleet of foot with Kazuma, weaving between the trees and dancing over their roots. 

Akane grew strong and clever with Mito, taught by her fox-cunning and watered with her seaside wisdom. 

Akane grew skilled under the tutelage of her mother, the mastery of the brush made her own to weild and flourish. 

And _I_ learned, and I painted, and I grew, and I _bloomed_. 

\---------

The world is war-torn and war-weary, battle-ravaged and new, shaped by the almighty shadow of the first Kages. 

The war is over and the young are there to claim it. 

The Hokage, the third, has led Konoha to peace. 

Peace has an unusual flavour to it, an effervescent joy, a lingering stagnancy. I think I am not used to it yet, my heart still beats at war-time pace, fast and fleet as my feet on roofs of wood, tile, and slate. 

A mission has been posited by our young shadow, wizened in the ways of war, drafted and placed within my father’s paint-stained hands. 

The scroll is onyx-black, s-rank and long-term. 

I slide with a cat’s grace into the Senju compound, braced within the trees’ cradle, and for a moment the sun catches my eye and I am blinded. When I blink the fractals free, a joyful call on my lips, I stop and- 

The light gleams off polished metal, dances over gold-brushed locks and the fingers twined therein. It gilds along an outstretched arm and burnishes a kiss in the softest rose. 

And I-

Kazuma smiles and _oh_ the light of his joy could eclipse the sun. 

He leans in close, steals another kiss.  
  


And I- 

A scroll of onyx-black is placed within paint stained hands, and I smile with red-painted lips and bow my head. 

And if there are tears in my eyes?

Well, 

I can hardly be blamed. A trick of the light, you see, the sun _was_ shining ever so bright. 

  
  


———-

My mother painted fantastical things. Things that she could never see, locked away in the dim-lit estate as she was. She hid herself from the outside in fear of what remained within. 

Stepping from the tree’s bourne shelter of our village, I find I have a taste for the beyond, for the far reaches and wonders of the world. 

The world may be war-torn and war-weary, but it is also _new_. 

With eyes unobscured I seek to know this world, to paint and map its marvels with a lover’s eye and an artist’s touch.

I leave for a boy, and stay gone for me. 

———-

I purse my lips at my reflection, lips a moue of cherry-red. My eyes are an appraising coastal blue.

I run my fingers along my jaw, pleased with its crescent moon curve. I’ve chosen Uzumaki-red hair today, and the fall of it is a cool rush down my spine. Very different from the intricate midnight blue braids indicative of a Mizu native. 

Satisfied, I close my compact with a click and tuck it away with my brushes. 

Makeup is an artisan’s skill, and the Kurama Clan have always been masters. 

I run my finger down my canvas (a napkin spread thin from breakfast this morning) and mar the tableau irreparably. The technique drops imperceptibly and instantaneously. 

I seal away the evidence along with my belongings, swinging my over-large scroll across my shoulders. A “wandering Uzumaki” wouldn’t be caught dead without one, after all. 

Downwind a ship lays anchor at the sleepy seaside town of Minamikaku. The boat is a reliable one, the captain experienced and willing to turn a blind eye if the money gleams just so. 

Beyond, the Land of Sky awaits. 

\-----------

A stern flutters at the porthole, its small red legs scrambling to find purchase. 

With a grin I stand and lever the window open, delighting in the brief sea spray as the bird brushes past, wingtips rustling against my ear. 

“You could have opened that sooner, summoner.” huffs the stern, settling itself on a crate turned desk and clicking its beak in reproach. 

“Are you _tired,_ Chiyuki-san?” I ask, voice teasing and laden with a perfect Uzu drawl. 

Chiyuki huffs, ruffling her bone-white feathers “Certainly not.” she sniffs, turning her head to the side “It’s simply the principle of the matter. A woman of my advanced age should not be kept waiting, after all."

I eye Chiyuki with heavy skepticism. My youngest summon holds out for a respectable minute before breaking into high keening laughs. 

“Ahahaha~! Ahhh now now lets see here…” she trails off, tipping her black capped head to the side in a contemplative manner before flapping out a single wing authoritatively “I have four messages for you, Summoner! One! From Hokage-dono! Two! From Intel! Three! From _that guy_! Four! From your mother!” at the proclamation of each number, Chiyuki plucks a carefully folded piece of scritta paper from amongst her secondaries, depositing the little white squares like discarded seashells on my salt-stained desk. 

“I will remain here until you formulate a reply, Summoner!” she declares, chipper as she hops around to give me her back along with the illusion of privacy. 

I read the letters in the order presented. The Hokage’s letter is merely congratulatory of a job well done in Mizu. Intel has a list of questions a mile long ( _what is the average trade tariff? Local sentiments towards the Water Daimyo? Did you witness any fruit mongers selling anything endemic to mountainous regions? Did you notice any weapons made of Iwa steel?_ ) I answer the questions to the best of my ability ( _Low: 4.0%, poor, yes, no_ ) and move on to the next letter. 

Kazuma writes in a hurried script made near illegible due to obvious excitement, it dances across the page like a cricket’s steps. Kazuma writes to inform me of the birth of his second child, a healthy boy by the name of Nawaki. His wife is recovering well, and darling Tsunade is overjoyed to finally be a big sister. 

The smile I bear is one of open and genuine joy, my response just as ecstatic and congratulatory as my overflowing heart can manage (though I cannot resist teasing the man on the choice of name). 

The love I bore Kazuma was a girl’s love, one that faded as I grew into a woman. Nearly a decade has passed, and I have loved others since, though perhaps none so foolishly, and certainly none quite so passionately as the love I hold for distant lands and further shores. 

My smile never fades as I finish my response, unfolding my mother’s letter. Cousin Murakumo is taking well to my mother’s teachings, though she is saddened that I will not be persuaded to take on my rightful duties as clan head. 

_No_ I think, casting my gaze out to sea. Beyond the porthole’s orange-rusted frame the Tatakau ocean roils in whorling patterns, the spray from the whirlpools catching the light, glittering diamonds leaping amidst the waves. 

In the distance mountains rise, silver stone and emerald lined. 

_No,_ I think, _it’s not a shame at all._

I reach out for an empty scroll. The scene unfolding before me would serve as a lovely gift for young Nawaki, and my fingers itch to paint it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading!  
> I hope y’all enjoyed a brief moment with Akane! I definitely wanted to experiment with another character’s headspace, and Akane’s highly visual and artistic one was a delight to work with. 
> 
> As always, love hearing from y’all! Feel free to shoot me a prompt or a request! I can’t promise I’ll write each and every one, but I’d love to see what you guys would like me to expand upon! Any characters or scenes in particular that interested you, I can write further here~!  
> You can also send comments or prompts to my: [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/DissatisfiedDo1)  
> My: [Tumblr](https://dissatisfied-doodles.tumblr.com/)  
> Or just in the comments section below! 
> 
> Thanks y’all! Take care out there~!


	2. I want to go where the leaves are burning, burning, burning in scarlet and gold; the wind is up and my heart is turning again to the forest old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a part 1 of 2, possibly 3, short chapters focusing on our reticent Chicago-Sensei  
> From the prompt: “What keeps him going? What makes him want to keep living even though his CREATOR IS A SADIST 😂  
> Or, what does he do to make himself feel better when he feels down?”

Shikago is born during the first war, the fifth son, cheaply made and cheaply named. 

Until this point, war of this scale had never been known, to Shinobi or otherwise. The Warring Clans Era has been a tumultuous, violent, and vengeful time, where an individual posed no worth beyond the blade and blood on their hands.

The First War -or the Shinobi World War as it was known at the time- dispensed with some of the unsavoury practices of the Warring Clans Era, children spared from the front lines, soldiers trained and ready, strong enough to carry their blades high. 

It brought forth far greater horrors, however. The Biju, calamities of nature, wrath incarnate, harnessed and weaponized. Rather than mere clans,  _ nations _ fought tooth and nail. The casualties numbered in the thousands, the  _ millions _ , no longer in the simple hundreds. The topography of the world changed during this war, the greatest founders falling as sure as tree and stone to make way for new blood. 

Shikago is born the fifth son, and all circumstances of his birth would lead one to believe he would lead a life of insignificance, to be fortunate to survive his first decade. That is, all circumstances but one:

Shikago is born the fifth son, but is blessed with two brothers. Yamanaka Inohara and Akimichi Chougatake are born mere days after Shikago himself enters the world. The three clans muster what members they can for a celebration, as there have been no children born so close together to all three clans in a generation. Drink and food abound, and finally, inexorably, laughter trickles forth, brightening these dark and uncertain times. 

The three babes lay within the same bassinet, curled up against one another, a symbol of hope for all who behold them. 

Perhaps a sign, or a blessing from the Kami themselves. From all mouths gathered falls a single name, lightened with hope: Ino-Shika-Cho. 

——

Shikago has six siblings, four of blood, two of soul. 

He cannot remember a single day where Inohara and Chougatake weren’t within reach, where he has not fallen asleep counting their breaths, warmed by their love. Instinctive; as natural as the sun rising in the east, and setting in the west. 

Shikago is all of 5 years old, his father’s earrings plain and black in his ears. 

The war still rages beyond Konoha’s walls, the Lord Third is new to his mantle, but he leads, and leads well. Shikago knows this, as he, only five, assumes his role as strategist, familiarizing himself with the pieces on the board. 

He is a serious child, studious and dour, shadowed under the mantle of expectation. Already his humour runs black, black like his hair, and black like his eyes. 

Inohara is light where Shikago is dark. Pale lilac eyes and ash-blond hair. Inohara is the sweetest of them all, crying over crushed flowers and scraped knees. He does not possess Shikago’s strategic mind, but already his emotional intelligence is coming to the fore. He does not need to goad Shikago out of his prideful silences, he simply needs to look and he  _ knows _ . He’s always there to lend and hand, or a shoulder, even when Shikago would rather die than admit it. 

Chougatake is a brilliant burst of colour, loud and boisterous where Shikago is quiet and Inohara is shy. He pulls the pair in his wake, helpless against his magnetism. At five, he already has all three clans eating out of the palm of his hand, and it seems that the trio can not walk a block without some granny pinching his cheeks and plying them all with sweets. 

Shikago is the mind, Inohara the soul, but Chougatake is the  _ heart _ , who’s beat drives them ever forward. 

———

There’s talk for a time, of the Hokage himself taking them on as students. It would suit tradition, after all, to have a Sarutobi train this latest incarnation of Inoshikacho, and what better Sarutobi than the Hokage? 

Unfortunately it is not to be. Distant fronts demand the Hokage’s time and attention, and he cannot afford to be distracted by fresh Academy graduates. 

Instead, Sarutobi Hinomaru, the Hokage’s younger brother, takes on the prestigious position of teaching Team 3. 

No member of Inoshikacho makes it easy for him. 

Shikago is too used to making his own plans, and of said plans being followed unquestionably. Having to follow the chain of command rankles, and not even Inohara’s soothing words can bank his slow burning ire. Only his devotion to the idea of Inoshikacho spares his mentor all of his scathing derision. 

Inohara is both Hinomaru’s pride and despair. Out of all of the three, Inohara possesses the most affinity for his clan’s signature techniques, his natural empathy allowing him to slip into the mind of others without being detected. However, his own nature plays against him, shying away from the brutal realities of shinobi life. He cries when his trap springs a rabbit, and vomits the first time he injures an opponent. 

Chougatake, like Shikago, is too used to following the beat of Inoshikacho’s drum. He’ll willfully disobey Hinomaru if it means following Shikago’s advice, or catering to Inohara’s needs. He’ll side too readily with Shikago’s defensiveness, and seeks to protect Inohara’s innocence. Vocally combative and slyly manipulative in turns, he ultimately leads his team astray from their sensei’s teachings. 

The only thing that spares Hinomaru from going prematurely gray (or tearing his own hair out) is that all three are  _ good _ . Ridiculously good. Each pupil takes to their clan techniques like a fish to water, and operate with a sense of cohesion that would make most veterans weep in envy. They do not bicker amongst themselves, and are always, always watching each other’s back. 

Most days Hinomaru feels like he’s inherited a  _ family _ instead of a team, and can only concede he’s been shoehorned into the role of authoritarian step-father. 

————

For all their training, for all the portends and expectations, for all of Shikago’s plotting and planning, it comes as a surprise when the war ends. 

He had always known it was a possibility, and that logically the war had to end  _ sometime _ , lest all nations risk total annihilation, but still. 

The superstitious part of him, that still skipped over the borders of tatami mats, that slept facing south, bought into the  _ expectation _ . That it was Inoshikacho that would help turn the tides of war. It was what they were born for. Their  _ destiny _ . 

In the days and weeks following the declaration of armistice, Shikago feels wrong-footed and uncertain for the first time in his life. 

Always, always, Shikago has known what was expected of him and his soul-brothers. He knew the name and weight of their piece of the board, knew what play to use them in. Now, having one of his fundamental truths disproven so utterly and absolutely, he cannot help but waffle in his uncertainty. 

If not for war, what were they good for? 

————

As an uneasy peace settles, the answer eventually becomes clear. 

Konoha was the undeniable victor of the Shinobi World War, and it must maintain an image of such to prevent bitter enemies from latching onto any perceived weaknesses. Any aggression at such a fragile time could have the world spiralling out into all out warfare again. 

So, as the idealized poster child of all the values Konoha stands for (Clan cohesion, team comradery, prestige and power) Inoshikacho soon becomes the face of Konoha. 

Any high-profile missions available are delegated to Team 3, and soon their names become one that is respected more than it is feared. 

Inoshikacho becomes synonymous with Konoha values, exemplifying the quality and dependability of Konoha services. 

They become a particular favourite of the Daimyo’s, Chougatake’s easy charisma ingratiating himself within the court, Inohara’s empathy smoothing ruffled feathers and unveiling other’s hearts and intentions, and Shikago’s own skills serving to guide his brothers out of traps and pitfalls as they appear. 

It is not the destiny Shikago foresaw for them, but it is fulfilling work all the same. 

————-

Chougatake and Inohara are already seated at the izakaya, the table loaded with sake and food. 

As Shikago steps under the noren, a group of women, kunoichi by their silent steps, pass by him. One hangs back, just for a moment, to catch his eye, her pinky barely running across the length of his forearm. 

The interaction barely lasts more than a second, but it’s a second long enough. By the time Shikago slides into his seat, Chougatake is leering at him and Inohara is smiling encouragingly. 

Shikago sighs, pouring himself a cup of sake and staring at the light dancing upon the liquid’s surface. 

“It’s nothing” Shikago mutters, defensive. 

“That didn’t  _ look _ like nothing” Chougatake says, cheeks already rosy with good cheer. 

_ Do you want to talk about it?  _ Inohara asks without speaking, eyebrows quirked just so. 

_ I don’t really have a choice _ he conveys back with a frown. 

_ Say the word and I’ll have him back off  _ Inohara promises, shrugging and nodding his head in Chougatake’s general direction. 

Shikago waves him off and lifts the drink to his lips. He drinks slowly before settling the cup gently down on the table, grimacing at the taste. He’s never managed to develop an appreciation for sake. 

“It’s really nothing” he says, playing it cool “she… propositioned me, is all.” 

Chougatake chokes on his mouthful of wine. 

“Oh?” He says, in a high, strangled tone. Shikago can’t say he blames him, he’s definitely not the approachable sort “that’s rather… forward. And brave.”

That too, Shikago must concede, as he has developed a bit of a… reputation. He has what he can acknowledge is a handsome face, though he does absolutely nothing to accentuate that fact, and it seems people cannot help but take notice. 

Whatever tact Shikago does indeed possess soon met the limited bounds of his patience, and well… to say he rejected all interested parties would be an oversimplification. 

“Verbal evisceration” is what Chougatake called it. 

“A firm establishment of boundaries” is how Inohara put it. 

The results are the same, regardless of phrasing. Shikago has an ever present personal bubble that few would dare enter, and there are fewer still who are welcomed to do so. 

He’s also gained the unfortunate monicker of ”5-foot-Shadow”, but he hasn’t conclusively ruled out if it’s his personal or professional life that started it. 

He traces the rim of his cup, looking over his two companions, brothers in all but blood, and cannot fathom how anyone could ever want for more. 

Monicker notwithstanding. 

———-

Chougatake looks at Shikago’s cooking efforts with barely repressed horror, Inohara doesn’t even  _ try _ to mask his fear. 

The thing on the table smoulders despite the steadily growing puddle it’s sitting in. 

Chougatake puts both his hands against his mouth and breathes in sharply. After a beat he points both hands down at the plate with an aggrieved “How.”

Shikago shrugs, already thinking about how he’ll clean the mess up. 

“I don’t know. I followed the recipe.” 

“When I said you needed a hobby, I didn’t think that  _ this _ would be the result…” Chougatake says, faintly. 

Inohara is still struck mute by the  _ thing _ on the table, he’s pretty sure it’s  _ breathing _ . 

He’s seen agonal gasps before. He’s fairly certain these qualify. 

“I do have a hobby.” Shikago says, somewhat defensively. 

Chougatake looks like he’s about to argue to point, but the substance on the table belches quite loudly and he goes pale. 

“You know what?” He says, defeated “memorize all the bingo books you want. Just…” he takes a deep breath “just never cook anything that isn’t trail rations again, alright? Never again. My heart can’t take it.”

———

Shikago is the fifth son of 6 siblings, 4 of blood, 2 of soul. He is cheaply made, and cheaply named. 

Shikago is 4 years old when he knows his fate to be one of war and hope. 

Shikago is 9 when those hopes are dashed. 

12 when his ambitions were set amongst distant courts; battlegrounds of a different sort. 

14 when he reaches a state of acceptance, pleased with what he has and what he has achieved. 

Shikago is 15 years old, sweating through a summer night when the heir is born. 

Shikaku enters this world at sunset when the shadows are longest, under an auspicious star. He is blessed with two soul brothers of his very own, clan heirs all. The clans speak once again of the fabled Ino-Shika-Cho, voices raised in joy and wonder. 

A celebration is held, one that eclipses the Gion Matsuri festival in all its splendour. There is dancing, feasting, and singing. All are welcome past the compound’s doors, and Konoha as a whole rejoices. The bounty of peace, the wealth of Konoha. 

Shikago is 15 years old when he feels all that defines him be stripped away, polished until it gleams, and gifted to another. 

Shikago is 15 years old when a yawning emptiness settles within the depths of his soul, and makes itself a home there. 


	3. Now overhead, where the rivulet loiters and stops, the bittersweet hangs from the tops of the alders and cherries its bunches of beautiful berries, orange and red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is part 1 of Bg3929's request: "The emigration/childhood/love story of Hisui’s parents <3." There should be more coming soon (I'm thinking 2-4 parts honestly).   
> Congratulations on the correct guess and I hope you enjoy!

Ren is born to the Hirai family in the end phases of the Shinobi World War. Her family is civilian in the way that an arms dealer is a civilian, that is to say: not very.    
She’s born in lovely uninvaded Konoha, to parents whose weapon business is booming during the current strife, and by the time she’s old enough to know what’s going on, the war has ended. There’s always a demand for weapons in Hi no Kuni, however, and her family has made a name for itself during the long era of war.    
A blade with the Hirai stamp is one of guaranteed quality. 

Still, the business is doing well, and Ren isn’t the oldest of her siblings. There’s no need for her to work in the shop, her brother will be inheriting that, and her sister is the one who’ll secure an advantageous match for the family, so Ren easily fades into the background, quiet and unassuming, playing with scraps of metal from the shop. 

When she’s five she sees one of her father’s apprentices’ hair catch fire after a stray spark flies too close to it’s loose fall. He’s  _ largely _ unharmed, Ren having picked up the quenching pail and throwing it at his head, but nevertheless Ren starts to keep her hair tied sternly back from then on. Her mother dispairs, but her father laughs. He takes to twisting the cool length over his work roughened fingers and calling her his “water lily”, asking for good luck. Her mother, for her part, stops shooing her from the shop when she happens to remember her existence. 

She’s six when a shinobi, she doesn’t remember the details of who, starts when she drops a ball of ninja wire she’d been untangling. He exhales sharply and then laughs, leaning over the counter to tell her mother that she’d make a remarkable shinobi, he hadn’t noticed her there at all.    
He tips generously, and Ren’s mother is left with a considering look on her face, staring after Ren as she continues to work at the spool. 

Ren’s sent to the Academy because her family doesn’t really know what else to do. They have their heir and heiress, so they suppose a shinobi to earn the gratitude and acclaim of Konoha will have to do. 

For all that arms dealers aren’t civilians, they are still not shinobi, and Ren is in for quite the shock when she joins the Academy. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that Ren was spoiled, her parents were far too strict for that, but she was sheltered. Long hair brushed mirror smooth, unskinned knees. She’s old for her class, 8 to the average 6-7. Her instructor takes one look at her roughened fingertips, rolls his eyes, and says “At least you’re not a total lost cause.” 

Ren is used to sitting quiet, unassuming, out of the way. 

It doesn’t mean that the Academy isn’t boring. 

She just doesn’t show it. 

Her mind works like a tree, or a river, trains of thought loose and wild. The teacher will call on her in class and she won’t know the answer. She feels like he’s asking the wrong questions. If he asked her “How many hawks flew from the mission tower today?” she’d be able to tell him the number, and the approximate directions and level of import. She’d even be able to tell him when one of the messenger hawks wasn’t able to find it’s recipient, looping around Konoha. But he doesn’t ask that, so she doesn’t answer, and he sighs and mutters about civilians. 

Ren continues looking out the window, and the Academy continues to be boring. 

\-------------

She’s midway through her first term when the usual instructor gets a nasty winter cold and has to call off sick.    
The substitute is a delightfully plump woman with the rosiest cheeks Ren’s ever seen. She brings ripe peaches for the class every morning, despite the fact that they’re most definitely out of season. 

When Ren is called upon in class, she still doesn’t know the answers. She can see that the shopkeepers across from the Academy look to have started an extramarital affair with one another, if their frequent stops at one another’s shops and long lingering glances are anything to go by. Competitors usually aren’t so fond of one another. 

The substitute purses her lips, but doesn’t say anything more, and Ren seats herself back down, feeling guilty. This substitute is nice, and the least Ren could do to repay her kindness would be to pay attention, but she can’t. She tries, but then her mind wanders. 

Her mother frowns and looks to her father when she brings home her quiz from the day, not failing, but only just. 

Ren sits in the back of the shop and closes her eyes, losing herself in the scent of burning metal. 

——

The following morning, the substitute is there, still bearing her basket of peaches, still with jolly cheeks. She pulls Ren aside at the start of class, doubtlessly for a reprimand, and Ren sighs internally. It was… nice, while it lasted. 

Instead she’s handed a strange wooden cube, with moving pieces covered in a wide range of mosaic stains. 

The substitute smiles her rosy smile and says that a lot of her friends have a hard time paying attention too, and sometimes it helps to have a little puzzle to focus on in class. 

Ren’s doubtful, but she takes the cube with her to her seat regardless. Each individual piece moves when pressed, and it makes a little rattling sound when shaken. 

——

It does help. 

She keeps her eyes and ears to the front of the class, and when the rivers of her thoughts wander, there’s a puzzle box to keep her hands busy. 

She doesn’t get all the questions the teacher asks her, but she gets a few. 

Her mother and father offer her beaming smiles when she brings her quiz back home. 

Even sweeter are the candied plums kept hidden within the puzzle box. 

\--------

Eventually the regular teacher returns, but there must have been some sort of communication between the substitute and the rest of the teaching staff. Ren’s allowed to continue fiddling with her puzzle box until it’s just a matter of muscle memory to unlock it. 

An aburame in the class sees this, and the following day he comes into class and gives her a round wooden ball, the size of a grapefruit, miniscule tubes and tunnels carved through it organically, a small glass bead within. Why? She delays the class when she doesn’t pay attention.    
Ren still offers him a smile, warm with the thought that he  _ saw _ her, a rare enough thing her parents often forget to do. The boy, Nobuyuki, flushes nearly violet and ducks into the fold of his scarf until not even his eyebrows are visible. 

\----------

It’s not a glass bead, but an amber one, with a small emerald beetle encased within. 

\-----------

Ren passes the Academy at the average age of twelve, much to the surprise of her original instructor.    
He hands her her headband with reluctant pride, and she holds it in her hands and expects to feel… something. 

She doesn’t feel any different than moments before, and tying it to her head doesn’t change that either. 

\---------------

She, Nobuyuki, and a Yanagikage Junpei are assembled into Team 25. 

For once, Ren and Nobuyuki aren’t the odd ones out, sitting on the sidelines. They have been friends for the past four years, whereas Junpei hasn’t interacted with either of them to any significant amount. 

“Could be worse.” Is his opinion on the matter, shrugging but not in a rude way. 

Ren smiles, pleased by his affability. 

A wristblade falls from his sleeve with a loud clatter, Junpei collecting it after a second, cursing all the while. 

“We should contemplate the reasoning behind our particular team composition.” Nobuyuki declares, at an uncharacteristic volume. 

“Uh… yeah.” Junpei says, refastening the wristblade “Uhm…”

“As the most knowledgeable party, I believe it is for infiltration, information gathering, and sabotage. I believe this because the Yanagikage clan specializes in just that, with concealed weaponry as a secondary skill, my own kikaichu lend themselves exceedingly well to the same, and Ren has proven herself to be a promising candidate as a trap expert and stealth operative. Am I wrong?”

“No, that sounds about right, thank you Nobu.” Ren says, genuine but definitely amused.

Junpei’s irritated scowl morphs into a rather roguish one “Infiltration, eh? Perfect. My mom is gonna be so pleased.” 

They discuss small things amongst themselves, time steadily crawling on past until the feeling of unease is undeniable. 

“Do you think our sensei forgot?” Ren asks, the “about us” left unspoken. 

“I heard of there being tests for genin teams, but they’re usually done AFTER you meet the new teacher.” Junpei offers tentatively. 

“Perhaps our sensei has decided to test our merit as a team preemptively, and we need to locate them before our time runs out? I believe that would be an excellent test of skill.”

Junpei shrugs “I mean, it couldn’t hurt? If we’re right, we’re right, and if we’re wrong then no harm no foul, right?” 

“The name… Sensei said it was Shimura Ayumu, right?” Ren asks, fingers tracing out possible kanji combinations. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Junpei says as Nobuyuki nods. 

“I know our store has several Shimura patrons,” Ren muses “he could be one of them. We keep a ledger, and we log addresses for delivery.” 

Junpei snorts. 

“It can’t be that easy. There’s no way.”

——-

Junpei ends up being half right. 

The Hirai books do indeed have record of a Shimira Ayumu, and there is also an address available. 

But it turns out that the address is just the front gate to the Shimura compound, and the compound itself is locked up tighter than the Hokage’s office. 

“There’s no way we’ll be able to break in.” Junpei says as they walk past, eyeing the stone walls and locked gate, complete with a rotating selection of guards. 

“I agree.” Nobuyuki whispers, muffled by his scarf, “I believe that esteemed councilman Shimura Danzo lives here, and it stands to reason that the compound would be heavily fortified.” 

Ren runs through several scenarios, her thoughts a river aflow. 

“Maybe…” she starts, interrupting Junpei, who gestures for her to continue. “Maybe we could pretend to have a delivery from the store? It’s messy, and can be traced back to me, but it MIGHT get us past the gates.” 

Junpei snaps his fingers “No, that’s a great plan. And we can pretend to be a genin team, working on a D-rank. We have the headbands, they’d never know.” 

“And we can collect a different address from the records book for our false delivery. I believe this would work and make our claim seem both legitimate and obfuscate our true target.”

“Shit, this might work!” Junpei mutters, delighted “Wait till mom hears about  _ this _ !” 

——

“Aww working on D-ranks? That’s rough.” Sympathizes the overly friendly guard.

Ren thinks of the multitude of genin her father has hired over the years for his deliveries and settles on a chipper personality. 

“Oh, it’s not so bad, shinobi-san! I’d much rather deliver a crate full of kunai than-“ she thinks fast, affecting a spooked whisper “-clean the old graves in the cemetery. Our Sensei had us clean them at midnight! It was so scary!” 

The guard laughs, his companion rolling his eyes and tuning away. 

Junpei shifts the crate a little and groans, the kunai clattering loudly. 

“Ahh… I remember those days. You’ll look back on ‘em fondly when you’re older, take it from this old fart. Ah, but your box is probably heavy, I shouldn’t keep you, run on ahead.” 

The gates creak open and it takes every ounce of Ren’s self control not to show her absolute delight. 

“Oh, shinobi-san, I was hoping you might be able to help us.” She says, doing her best to look politely embarrassed, her mom’s customer service face comes to mind “You see, the delivery is for a Shimura Ayumu, but the delivery address just said the compound, but the store owner said it had to go to his door. Can you give us directions?” She gives him a hopeful smile. 

The man blinks. 

“ _ The brain-killer smile _ .” Junpei whispers, barely audible. Nobuyuki grunts in agreement. 

“Of course!” The guard says “If you walk down the compound’s main street you’ll see a house to your left with green roof tiles. It should be that one there. Come back if you can’t find it, okay?”

Ren smiles, hastening her team forward as she thanks the guard. 

The compound's gates close behind her, and the team’s looking down Shimura Road. 

“Green roof.” Nobuyuki reminds them. 

“Hold on, I’m trying not to lose my mind.” Junpei says, somewhat strangled while his face betrays no emotions. 

“That’s it there.” Ren says, pointing. 

“What the fuck.” Junpei breathes. 

———

They stash the weapons under the engawa and find that a second floor window has been left wide open. The trio scale a water barrel and downspout, shuffling quietly and quickly across the roof until they’re standing at the windowsill. 

Now, subconsciously, Ren was imagining a middle aged ninja, hair greying at the temples, utterly unsurprised at their arrival, dressed in a flowing black montsuki, and sitting with indolent ease as he says “I’ve been expecting you.” 

Instead they see a teenager that barely qualifies as a man sprawled out like a recently murdered corpse, drooling across his pillowcase, most definitely and most assuredly asleep. 

“That can’t be him, can it?” Junpei hisses. 

“I do believe it is.” Nobuyuki mumbles back. 

Ren sighs gustily from the heart. 

——

Shimura Ayumu has a wild bedhead of black hair, eyes that are in such a constant state of drowsiness they’re usually just about shut, but is otherwise rather unremarkable. 

“Oh hey.” Ayumu greets the team after waking with a shriek and pelting Junpei with a pillow hard enough to send him careening off the roof “You guys. What are you doing here?” 

Ren and Nobuyuki exchange a glance.

“Did you forget that today was the team assignments?” Nobuyuki hedges. 

“Oh yeah, probably.” Replies their potential sensei, tone cheery “But hey, you found me! That’s pretty cool.” He stretches and groans in relief when his back cracks horrifically.    
He scratches the side of his face, where a facsimile of a beard is growing, yawning and smacking his lips.    
“Say, aren’t there supposed to be three of you?”

Junpei scales the building, bleeding from the nose, spitting like a cat. 

Ayumu blinks “Oh wow. Would you look at that. What’s his problem?” 

“Does this mean there was no test?” Ren asks once they’ve followed Ayumu down the stairs. 

The man is currently fishing eggs and such from his cold box.   
“I was just gonna pass you all automatically.” Is the muffled reply. 

“Can you do that?” Junpei asks, holding a melting icecube to the bridge of his nose. 

“No clue!” says the man “That’s a problem we could deal with when we came to it. Eggs?”

The trio hastily shake their heads no. 

A shrug. “Suit yourselves.”   
And he then starts cracking the eggs directly into a pan. 

“Why would you just pass any team?” Nobuyuki asks “I believe that would be a most unwise practice, what if we were completely unable to work with one another?”

“Oh, getting a genin team is a pretty sweet deal, you get to stay in village and take milk missions.” he yawns, continuing to speak through the motion “And I have to babysit for my aunties while I’m here anyways, so at least now I’m getting payed for it.” He smacks his lips a couple times.    
“Oh, yeah, and if you guys didn’t get along… Well, that can get worked on, I think. Later. And you do get along, so now we don’t need to work on it. See?” 

“Wait, are you financially exploiting us?” Junpei shouts, voice cracking halfway through the sentence. 

“Noooo.” Says Ayumu as he pokes at the congealing eggs on the pan.   
“I mean. Maybe. I guess. But I’d still train you guys, it’s  _ fine _ . I’m great with kids.”

And, so saying, the contents of the frying pan burst into flames. 

——   
  
“So what  _ are _ we meant to specialize in?” Junpei asks, arms crossed behind his head.    
“Oh, I don’t know really. I read your files ages ago.” Ayumu waves a hand like the matter is of no concern.    
Ren blinks a couple times with exaggerated slowness.    
“Well, what do  _ you _ specialize in then?” Junpei asks, unimpressed, “You are a jounin, right?”   
“Mm, yeah, I’m a jounin, sure. Got field-promoted back in the war.” The man then proceeds to let out a brief lowing laugh, like he’s in on some cosmic joke with the world.    
It can’t be seen behind his glasses, especially since they have blinders along the lenses, but Nobuyuki’s left eye twitches at his reply. 

“We’re probably best suited to infiltration and sabotage.” Ren hastens to add, before either boy detonates.    
  
Ayumu smiles cheerily, his face glowing radiantly “Sure, let’s do that. See? You already figured it out.”

Junpei lets out an inarticulate scream.

——

“You guys are doing  _ great _ .” Ayumu cheers from a tree as team 25 completes their second loop around Konoha-and-surrounding-areas.    
  
Ayumu is full on snoring by the time team 25 completes their twelfth loop. 

The trio stop, limbs trembling, to look at one another, and a sense of kindred hatred flows through each and every one of them like a delightful summer stream. 

Ren gives each of the boys more loops of ninja wire than anyone could ever possibly need. 

Ayumu wakes to Ren peering at him beneath the tree’s leaves, waving cheerily. Ayumu snorts, sniffles, and rubs the drool from the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, haha, did I fall asleep? Oops-” 

Ren, still smiling and waving, kicks the trip wire. 

Ayumu can only let out a short surprised squeak before he’s trussed up like a fly in a spider’s net. There’s so much ninja wire that not a shred of his standard uniform is visible, and so much as a wiggle to free himself will result in some very painful skinning. 

“Haha, wow. You guys got me pretty good, huh?” 

Nobuyuki and Junpei step out to either side of Ren, red faced and sweaty, bearing similar looks of mutinous cheer. 

“Haha, okay, point made. You guys can let me down now.” 

Team 25 turns as one and leaves, Junpei talking about a rather nice shaved ice stand that’s set up near the Academy. 

“Guys?” 

“Haha, okay guys. You can let me down now.” 

Once the kids are well out of range Ayumu frowns and puffs out of existence, clouds of white dissipating with a slight ringing note. 

Ayumu’s head pokes up from a nearby bush, leaves caught in his hair and a grin on his face. 

He blows out a puff of air, displacing one of the leaves hanging over his forehead, and laughs. 

“Holy fuck, vicious little buggers.” 

——

He beats them to the shaved ice stand, smiling at them over his serving of blackberry currant. 

“Hey guys! Long time no see!”

Their expressions of stoney horror will warm the cockles of his heart for many of the years to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Welcome to 2021.   
> As always, thanks for reading, and take care out there!


	4. Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold, Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 Chicago-sensei's backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Chicago-sensei's backstory from the prompt: “What keeps him going? What makes him want to keep living even though his CREATOR IS A SADIST 😂  
> Or, what does he do to make himself feel better when he feels down?”
> 
> Enjoy!

The emptiness eats at him. 

He wants to scream and shout, demand to know  _ Why? Why does he exist? Why give him  _ anything _ just to take it all away? Why give him hopes and dreams just to crush them all underfoot?! _

But of course, no one and nothing answers. 

———

“Oh hey, you’re him-” says a voice over Shikago’s shoulder “the go-getter Nara.”

Shikago looks over his shoulder, slowly as if to make a point ( _ not that he’ll ever admit it _ ) and gives the speaker a rapid once over. 

A woman, about 1.65 metres tall, 50 kg, brown hair cut just under her chin. Her sandals are worn but the colours aren’t faded. No clan insignias in sight. 

“Abe Kayo,” she says with a lopsided smile “but you probably already knew that.” 

Shikago hums, as it’s the truth, but it doesn’t really explain what she’s doing here and now. 

“Don’t give me that look!” she says, laughing “I just wanted to give you my thanks, would have never gotten reassigned without your help.” 

He remembers her file, a seduction agent working with the Intelligence Division. She’d been shoehorned since her early chunin days but hadn’t gotten promoted out of the position. 

Sure, she was  _ good _ , but she wasn’t  _ excellent _ . And that’s what he’s looking for. 

“It was nothing.” Shikago replies, matter-of-fact “I merely saw your entries in both the Suna and Kumo bingo books, the decision was simple from there.”

The fact that any infiltration agent’s name, face, and information is in the book is immediately concerning, and means that they aren’t nearly as good at infiltration as Konoha can afford. 

What  _ does _ stand out is that despite her cover being blown on more than one occasion, she’s never once been captured. Kumo has an entire paragraph unger her general information on how to chase her down, listing some of the most common evasion techniques she is known for. 

As an infiltration agent she’s  _ decent _ , but as a high-priority courier she’s  _ excellent _ . 

“Yeah well, for you maybe it was nothing, but for me it means a lot. I’ve been asking to be reassigned since I got stationed in Kiri. So… thanks.” 

Shikago nods with a quiet “Of course.” turning to leave. 

“Hey.” Abe Kayo says “I’ve got leave and nothing to do, wanna come back to my place?”

The usual annoyance rushes in, hot and thick, like tar. He doesn’t  _ want _ this. He doesn’t  _ want _ to  _ deal with this _ . He takes a deep breath, teeth locked together. 

“Oh god, not like that.” She blurts “Shit, sorry. I’m well aware of your reputation, it’s not that. I’ve just got a tub of icecream in the icebox and way too much free time, and you look like you could use a break.” 

He doesn’t know if it’s the swift shift from annoyance to relief, or just Abe Kayo’s general delivery, but Shikago can’t quite help the bark of laughter he lets out. He quickly schools himself, projecting nothing but cool professionalism. 

Abe Kayo’s expression shifts from mortification to a tentative smile, gaining confidence until it grows into a proper smirk. 

“‘Cmon, you’re  _ the go-getter-Nara.  _ You could probably finish what you’re doing here in your sleep. I’ve got one of those radios from Kumo, you’ll love it.” 

———

“Oh my god...  _ they were roommates _ . _ ” _ Kayo breathes, matcha ice cream slipping from her upheld spoon “How did you know?” 

“It was from the mission desk scene.” Shikago explains, scooping himself some ice cream as punctuation “Aimi-chan came to the wrong conclusion when she saw Kane-san talk to Yua-chan immediately after that difficult mission. Aimi-chan then saw the two of them walking to and from the apartment at several different times, but Kane-san had mentioned previously how his financial situation had improved recently.” 

“Ahh… I didn’t notice any of that!” Kayo whines, tapping the back of her spoon against her lips “I just got swept away by all the emotions…”

There’s a lull in the conversation, where only the crackle of the radio can be heard between them. 

Kayo grabs a bite from her spoon (using her  _ teeth _ , the monster), pauses as if thinking, before saying “You know… You’re pretty smart, yeah?” 

Shikago gives her a bit of a confused look and says “Yes.” in a manner more befitting a question. Kayo doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Do you ever forget a grudge?” She asks, putting her bowl down on the counter. 

“If the situation can be worked through, yes. It’s too bothersome to hold onto resentment.” He says, covering for the instinctive part of him that wants to hiss out a  _ Never _ . 

———

“I can’t believe you’re crying.” Shikago whispers, a wry smile overtaking his mouth. 

“I can’t believe you’re  _ not. _ ” Inohara sniffs, smiling tremulously at the pair getting married. Chougatake is beaming beside his bride-to-be, his face flushed in incandescent joy. 

Shikago lifts a brow.

“This is his second wedding.” He points out, deadpan. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Inohara declares with a lift of his chin “it’s just as important as the first and I’m just… so happy!” 

Shikago hums noncommittally and turns back to the proceedings, yet hidden within his heart a glowing light of fondness burns ever-bright. 

He doesn’t need to say it, Inohara and Cougatake both know his heart as well as they know their own.

Don’t they? 

———

War comes like twilight for the elemental nations, with shadowy fingers that reach and grasp before plunging all equally in inescapable night. 

It comes as a welcome relief to the mire of stagnation, to those waiting for years and years for the sun to finally set. 

Shikago closes his eyes to the sunset, and basks in the dying of the light.    
  
———

Shikago is a lodestone of ambition, brilliant in seizing opportunities. He knows who and what is needed for which and what tasks. 

He plucks diamonds from the rough, cuts them to shape, and polishes them until they  _ gleam _ . 

He is given a company to lead, and not a single soul within isn’t perfectly suited to his or her task. The teams are formed with careful consideration, and the brave soldiers that serve talk amongst themselves and thank the luck that saw them blessed with an Ino-Shika-Cho command. If anyone understands teamwork, it would be them. 

War does not suit Inohara, who loves too easily, but that same love is a balm to the souls of those who have felt war’s cruel kiss. 

War does not suit Chougatake, who loves too fully, but that same love turns to fierceness when challenged by war’s greedy maw. 

But if war is darkness, then Shikago thrives, cast tall by the blazing fire of his fellows, a dancing shade in the night. 

———

“What’s that?” Kayo asks, cooling down after a courier mission from the Suna front. She’s been taking measured sips from her water canteen and peering over Shikago’s shoulder as he charts out the company’s next few steps with the updated information she’s provided. 

“A databook.” he offers, tilting said book to let her see as he continues to chart out the surrounding locale. She takes it and flips through a couple pages, still sipping at her water. 

“This is really impressive!” she says “Am I in here? Oh, I am!” 

She shows him the page like he wasn’t the one to write it out, proudly displaying her photo and a numerical ranking system. 

“That’s pretty nifty.” she says, turning the book back so she can give it a more thorough read. 

“Though there is nothing wrong with the current ranking system… I saw that there was a wide disparity between individuals, with no clarification between strengths and weaknesses. While the honourable Nidaime made great efforts to build upon the capability and versatility of a three man team, this in of itself is limiting, and was most likely the result of a time when the village was smaller and one’s abilities were more widely and easily known. However, now the village is significantly larger, and sometimes the best team for the job needs to be gathered. A commander has to have the best idea of his or her subordinate’s strengths and weaknesses.”

“This explains just… so much about you.” Kayo says, a wicked grin on her face. 

Shikago splutters “What? Me?! No-”

She pats his vest with the booklet twice “ _ The-go-getter-Nara _ . You wrote out a  _ stat-book _ on your underlings.”

“It made things  _ easier _ -” Shikago defends, he’s not really sure what he’s defending here, but he’s taking a stand nonetheless. 

“Uh-huh, yeah. Sure. Submit the template to the Hokage, you nerd, it’s a good idea. He’s bound to approve it.”

“I will.” he says, glaring spitefully, perfectly aware that the template had been submitted and was ‘under-review’ for the past two years. 

\-------------

“Those’ll kill you one day.” Kayo volunteers, lobbing a scroll towards the vicinity of Shikago’s head. He snatches the scroll out of the air, reflexes honed by the long years of their acquaintance and Kayo’s incessant need to test out the “5-Foot-Nara Theory”. 

“ _ Thank you _ .” Inohara says to Kayo while maintaining a dangerously pleasant eye-smile with Shikago, his tone too sweet to be a hiss, but only by the barest margins. 

Shikago doesn't blink before he takes another long drag of his cigarette, the cherry glowing bright, just to make a point. He then exhales a gust of smoke in Kayo’s general direction - see how she likes it. 

She makes a face and smacks at the smoke “Hey there, asshole, I need to take the utmost care of these lungs. Keep your carcinogens to yourself, ya dick.” 

“Carcinogens, now that’s a fancy word for you, Kayo.” Shikago says, muffled around the butt of his cigarette. 

“Are you interested in medical journals, Abe-san?” Inohara asks politely, lilac eyes turned to face her in genuine curiosity. 

Kayo waffles her hand back and forth “I mean- sort of? Felt like I was hitting a bit of a plateau, so I figured why not catch up on some reading, see where I can improve. Tsunade-hime and Orochimaru-sama’s publications have been pretty eye-opening.”

“Oh, Orochimaru- _ sama _ , is it?” Chougatake says, apparently manifesting at the mere mention of a possible romantic entanglement. 

Inohara coughs politely. 

Kayo flushes but nonetheless pulls off a rather impressive expression of extreme distaste. “I don’t know why I bother talking to any of you. You’re all assholes.” 

“I just got here!” Chougatake defends, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“Yeah and you can turn right around and leave, Akimichi. House of Hospitality, my ass.”

“Well, Inohara’s been nothing but polite, surely.” He attempts, clapping two meaty hands over said Yamanaka’s shoulders, jostling him in place. 

She levels a finger at the two of them “No! No. I’m onto your tricks. You come in and throw me off, and then Inohara sashays his way in, all nice and soothing and ‘Oh just tell me  _ all  _ about it Abe-san’. No. Not today. No sir.” 

All three turn to face Shikago. 

Shikago raises his brows. 

“Yeah, I’m not even going to try to defend you, bro.” Chougatake says on a gusty exhale. 

“Sometimes, no matter the effort, a front is indefensible.” Inohara says with all the wisdom of a monk approaching enlightenment. 

“I’ll remember this.” Shikago vows, “I’ll remember this, and then someday I’ll send you all off to deal with something that will have you filled with regret. ‘ _ Oh where oh where did I go wrong? _ ’ you’ll ask, and I’ll be there, and I’ll tell you ‘ _ Thursday, January 14th. Do you remember what happened that day? Well I do.’” _

“Yeah, but if you’re  _ saying _ that, then that means you’re there with us too, doesn’t it.” Chougatake says, smug. 

Shikago levels them all with a flat look “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all! Take care out there.


End file.
